


Number 87

by da_petty



Series: The Amorous Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Cutesy, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, No Lube, Public Sex, Silly, Spit As Lube, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Waterfall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 14:20:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21037628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/da_petty/pseuds/da_petty
Summary: Sherlock attends a cocktail party, solves the crime, and gets the boy.





	Number 87

**Author's Note:**

> Now available in Russian here: https://ficbook.net/readfic/9732985
> 
> Many thanks to my wonderful translator, Zerbrechlich, for all of her hard work.
> 
> This is just a little nothing that I wrote to tide my patient readers over while I recuperate from surgery. It's just fluffy nonsense but it was fun writing it.

***

“Yes, Lestrade. Women steal too,” Sherlock said condescendingly.

“Yes. I’m aware of that, thank you,” Lestrade replied angrily.

“Really? I must say that you hide your intelligence very well. One would never guess that you had something going on in that silver head of yours.”

“Now, look…” Lestrade started only to be halted by a touch to his arm.

“Just ignore him Gregory. You know he’s only doing that to bait you,” said a tall, slender man with faintly ginger hair.

“I know, My but sometimes…”

“Sometimes for all of us, love. Actually, most times for me.” Mycroft turned to address Sherlock, resplendent in a black tux, his hair still an unruly mass of curls.

“Honestly, Sherlock. This is a black tie event. You couldn’t be bothered to do something with your hair? You look positively insane.”

“You didn’t say anything about my hair. Come to think of it, you didn’t mention anything other than a black tie so really, I’m over dressed.” Sherlock said, beginning to unbutton his shirt causing John to give an inelegant snort beside him.

“Sherlock. Behave. The case is solved. Let’s just enjoy the party.”

“The case is solved so the party is over. For me, at least. I’m going home.” Sherlock said, turning to leave. John grabbed him by the back of his impeccably tailored jacket, because of course Sherlock would actually own a bespoke tuxedo. 

Sherlock paused, glanced back at John and gave him a cold look.

“Let me go, John. The case is over and…

“Good point! The case is over so Mycroft and I will just be going.” Lestrade tugged a Mycroft’s suit coat trying to get his attention.

“Right, Myc?” Lestrade said in a stern tone of voice.

“Why? This is going to be good. A test of wills and all that. My money’s on Watson. Hey! Ow! That’s going to leave a mark!” Mycroft said, rubbing his bicep.

“That’s not the only thing that’s going to leave a mark if you don’t get your arse in gear.”

“Yes, Gregory,” Mycroft said, throughly chastened, he meekly followed Lestrade away from the pair.

“That’s very amusing. I guess we know who the boss is in that relationship.” Sherlock said with a smirk.

“All I care about right now is that I’M the boss in this relationship. Come on.” John reached up and proceeded to pull Sherlock along by the collar until he finally gave up resisting and went willingly, albeit reluctantly, cooperating.

As they reached a lovely staircase where a manmade waterfall had been set up to at the top to dazzle the guests, Sherlock turned to John and hissed;

“We’re working, John!”

“Nope. Not anymore. I believe that the case has been solved and I’ve had plans for you ever since we walked through the door.” Johns pupils were large and dark and he gave Sherlock the impression of a starving man looking at a steak.

“Have you?” Sherlock said, his voice deepening in that way that made all of John’s blood rush to his groin.

“Oh, yes. I have. Shall we?” John gestured Sherlock up the grand staircase ahead of him admiring his arse the entire way.

“That’s a lovely waterfall they’ve created here.” John remarked casually.

“Yes. Bit chilly though with the water rushing down like that.”

“Here. Let’s get closer.” John said, grabbing Sherlock’s hand and practically dragging him behind the falls.

“If you look down there, you can sort of make out the party goers.” John said with a slow smile.

“This probably isn’t the best place to stand, John. There’s water from the falls all over the walkway. I don’t think that it was meant for guests to use. It’s just for looks.”

“Let’s look then, shall we? You first.”

Sherlock turned around and faced the waterfall trying to make out the hazy figures below.

“I’m getting wet, John. It will ruin my tux.”

“It’s fine. Don’t ruin the moment. Isn’t this romantic? The water rushing by, you leaning against the railing, me…behind you.” John pressed his erection between the cleft of Sherlock’s buttocks, placed a hand on either hip he pulled Sherlock against him.

“Come on. Tell me this isn’t romantic.” John said, kissing Sherlock’s neck.

“Well, it might be if I wasn’t getting so wet. Oh. I like it when you do that.” Sherlock sighed.

“I know,” John said, releasing Sherlock’s earlobe with a little bite.

“I know you like this too,” John slid a hand slowly inside the front of Sherlocks trousers and, finding no pants, gripped his cock firmly causing Sherlock to sigh.

“What was that you said about getting wet?” John asked.

“It’s fine. I can buy another tux.” Sherlock panted.

“Pull your trousers down,” John whispered in his ear.

“What? Here? John, we’re clearly visible behind this waterfall. Mycroft will be angry…”

“All the more reason to do it. Besides, they can’t see us all that clearly. And no one’s looked up in the past 15 minutes. I’m not going to tell you again; pull your trousers down.” John punctuated that with a firm thrust against Sherlock’s backside.

“Here. I’ll help.” John removed his hands from Sherlock’s trousers, undid the button and flies then waited.

“What? Wait. What are you doing?”

John said nothing, only tapping on Sherlock’s hips impatiently waiting for him to think it through.

“Ohh…”

“That’s right, pull your trousers down, love. I mean to fuck you right here.”

Sherlock slid his trousers down and waited.

“I think that this was fantasy number…97, wasn’t it?” John asked.

“87. It was 87.”

“Care to refresh my memory?” John asked, squeezing Sherlock’s arse so tightly that he yelped.

“I wanted you to…oh god…”

“Yes…?” John had taken Sherlock in hand and was alternately squeezing his cock and stroking it.

“I wwwwwaaaannntted you to FUCK!”

“Use your words, Sherlock,” John said licking a finger and sliding it between those taught cheeks.

“I wanted you to fuck me in public. No warning. No prep. No…uh…ohhhh…request…just…thissssssss….” Sherlock sighed.

John removed his left hand from Sherlock’s trousers and while he was still stroking Sherlock’s cock with the other, said; 

“Lick my palm and you’d better make it good because this is going to be very uncomfortable otherwise.”

John held his palm to Sherlock’s face. He sucked on John’s fingers first, and then put all of his effort into getting John’s palm nice and slick.

John hadn’t bothered to lower his own trousers, he’d only pulled down his flies and pulled his hard cock through. As soon as he felt that his palm was wet enough…

“Stop! Bend over,” John gave Sherlock a shove in the middle of his back to emphasize his demand.

“Oh god!” Sherlock exclaimed as John bit down on his earlobe and thrusting his cock all the way in simultaneously. 

“Shhhh…you see all of those people down there? They can’t see us. They can’t see me taking you like this. Bent over and raw. We don’t have any time for finesse so I’m afraid that we’re going to have to wrap this up quickly.” 

John’s thrusts were so rough that Sherlock knew that he’d have a bruise in the shape of the railing shortly. 

“Who’s my bitch? Who. Is. It!” John whispered in Sherlock’s ear, punctuating each word with a brutal thrust. 

“I am. I am. I’m yours, John. Always. All ways. Yes! Fuck me! Yes!! YES!!”

“Damn right you are! Uhhhhhh!” John grunted shooting his load deeply into Sherlock. 

“You feel that? You feel me coming inside of you? Making you mine? Come for me, Sherlock. Come. For. Me!” Sherlock’s cock pulsed into John’s palm, once, twice, three times, by the fourth and final time, he felt completely boneless and leaned back against John with a sigh.

John withdrew from Sherlock and removed a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his hands off and then putting the soiled material back in his pocket. 

He watched as Sherlock pulled his trousers up and tucked his shirt back in.

“Well?” John asked with a smirk. 

“‘Well’ what?”

“Did I make your dream come true?”

“It was ok.” 

“OK?!” Then John saw Sherlock’s grin.

“Bastard!”

“It was fantastic! Fulfilled every dream I’d ever had and then some! Is that what you want to hear?”

“That’ll do for a start.” John smiled.

“Let’s go home. I feel the need for a shower followed by some decent take away. The food here is awful.”

“Ah, my man. What a dreamboat.”

“What’s a dreamboat’?”

“Never mind. We can discuss it later…”

***

“Have they left yet?” Lestrade asked.

Mycroft nodded in the direction of the staircase where a slightly disheveled John and Sherlock were making their way to the exit.

“Good lord! You don’t think that they’d…? In a public place?! What do you think they were doing up there?” Lestrade asked, cheeks reddening.

“Well, judging by Sherlock’s awkward gate, I’d say it was number 87.”

“What’s number 87?” Lestrade asked, puzzled.

“Have you seen the waterfall yet, Gregory? I hear it’s lovely from the other side. Let’s go up and enjoy the view.” Mycroft took Lestrade’s arm and headed towards the grand staircase.

“And then you’ll tell me what number 87 is?”

“Then, my dear Gregory, I’ll show you…”


End file.
